The True Tim Drake
by StoriesCoffee
Summary: This is a story about Tim Drake who was once Robin aka Batman's sidekick and then turned into Red Robin. This story will feature Tim heavily along with my own made-up characters. I absolutely LOVE Batman and especially all the Robins. So, without further ado...here you go! Please remember to rate this and message me! Appreciate the comments!
1. Chapter 1

Juliet is a college student attending Gotham University. She is studying Journalism and forensic science because she wants to be a hard-hitting Journalist. Right now she has an internship at the Gotham Chronicle. Juliet had lived in California first, but she wanted to be an investigative Journalist and she believed Gotham was the best place for this.

So let the story begin!

**Juliet's POV…**

"Matthews!"

This shout you knew very well. It was the shout of the Head Editor, Charlie Rutter. Charlie was a 45 year old man with a nicely developing beer gut and receeding hairline. He had a knack for finding the juiciest of news, and he knew exactly how to push buttons. With a nervous tug of your hair, you slowly walked into his office and closed the door behind you. He turned around in his chair, taking his eyes off the view of Gotham, he gazed at you. His eyes were a sparkling green and they spoke of a knowledge.

"Matthews I have a story for you," he said. You perked up at this. Lately you've been only running errands, delivering papers, or getting coffee. So the idea of a story caught your attention. You sat up a little straighter in your seat and gave him a smile. "We're doing another personality piece on Bruce Wayne and his business. And because everyone else is busy running the paper I need you to go get some interviews." You slumped a little in your seat, a sigh of exasperation escaped from your lips. ANOTHER personality piece? On Bruce Wayne…again? Charlie saw the look on your face and put a steady hand on the desk. He rooted around in the drawer before pulling out a recorder. Handing it to you, he turned around in his chair and back to the view of Gotham.

"I don't care if you WANT to do it, you HAVE to do it. Wayne is a big supporter of our paper…and of the city for the matter…and he is the most famous man in Gotham. So, get to work." And with that lovely sentiment, you sighed and walked out of the office. Grabbing a cup of coffee and a dohnut from the stand, you sat down at your small desk in the corner and began researching away online.

You typed in BRUCE WAYNE to the search engine and got his profile and his website. WAYNE Enterprises is funded by many different corporations and controlled many others. This multi-billion dollar company boasted many things including: technology, philanthropy, and many other things. You scrolled down the list and shook your head. You didn't want this. Everyone knew about what the WAYNE Enterprise did for the community. This website probably got 5,000 views a day. What you wanted was to learn about the REAL Bruce Wayne and what really is going on with his company. So, you typed in BRUCE WAYNE into the search engine and came up with a more personal profile. It talked about how he was living in Gotham in his big mansion. He had been a philanthropist all of his life and he lived alone. Commonly found with famous to-do women, he has never been married or has had any kids. Not much of a traveler, his home-life is still clouded in mystery. Yet, one thing is known: he has a butler named Alfred Pennyworth who has been in his service since he was a young boy. He is the only living Wayne member left, his parents having been killed when Bruce was young.

You frowned, feeling a slight pang of sympathy for the billionaire. Your father had been in a care accident a long time ago, leaving you alone with your mother. But at least you had one parent. You then looked up images of the man and found many. He was about 6 feet tall with very broad shoulders and dark hair. His eyes were a bright blue, and a smirk seemed to always be on his lips. Every picture he was in was of him and at least one beautiful woman (mostly supermodels) on his arm. You rolled your eyes. Of course, even an ugly billionaire could be seen with at least one bimbo accompanying him; and Bruce Wayne was not ugly. One picture intrigued you. It was taken 10 years ago and it was of Bruce and a small boy. Clicking on the picture you found a link leading you to a decade old Chronicle snippet article about how Bruce had adopted a nine year old boy named Dick Greyson. Frowning to yourself, you opened a new window and typed in DICK GREYSON into the search engine. A file came up of news articles on the report of a death in the Greyson family. Now fully aware, you looked into it a bit more. Typing in GREYSON DEATH into the engine, you came up with several new files. Apparently the family had been the famous Flying Greysons, acrobats who were part of the Haley's Circus act that traveled around the world. Ten years ago the family had met their deaths when a super villain had entered the ring and blasted the whole family and audience. Young Richard Greyson was the only one left alive.

You sat back in your chair, taking in all of this information. You went on Youtube and looked up a few videos of the famous Flying Greysons and were impressed by their ability to maneuver quickly and adequately as a team. Richard was the smallest at the time, and he seemed especially capable of handling his own acrobatics. You then proceeded to look up his picture and found that Richard Greyson was now a 25 year old with a full head of hair and muscles galore. There were very few pictures of him, it seems he was now living a sedentary lifestyle. Only a few with him standing stoically by next to his adoptive father. However, that was about it. A lot of questions popped up into your mind; Who was this Bruce Wayne? Why did he adopt this young acrobat so suddenly after his parents' death? These questions rattled around in your mind, and you finally picked up the telephone book and began looking up numbers.

Wayne wasn't that hard. You called his business and left your name and number with the receptionist; you were to have a meeting with him tomorrow afternoon. You then looked up Richard Greyson's number and found that he lived in a downtown apartment right here in Gotham. Deciding that if you called he would probably never call back, you put on your coat and proceeded to head for the ex-acrobat's apartment.

It was a bit mucky outside today, however, you never minded riding the rails. Deciding that he would probably better respond to a business-type person, you wore a floral dress that ended midthigh and a pink peacoat. And you brushed your hair down in beach waves down your back. You looked out the window of the train and watched as the tiled walls flew past you. An occasional tunnel would crop up and you would hear the drone of the rails crashing against the car. Finally, 30 minutes later, you found yourself standing in the Downtown area. People hurried past you either looking at their watches, or staring at the signs up above. Lights and cameras flashed from street to street, and priests stood on corners warning the sinned of their misdeeds. You loved the city. It was so full of life and ambition, it just worked wonders pumping you up. Walking around 5 blocks, you finally came upon a small apartment condo complex on the North side. You read the slip of paper again. It said that his room was on the third floor. Double checking to make sure you had your recorder, press pass, and notebook, you confidently stood at the door of the building…only to find out that you couldn't get in because you weren't a resident. A lock was stuck to the side of the door, requiring you to present a key. Pushing your hair out of your face in frustration, you tried pulling and kicking on the door to no avail.

You knew that there were call buttons available for you. However, you didn't want to alert Greyson to your presence. People got kind of freaked out at the sight of press. So instead, you pressed the one on the floor above him. The little piece of paper told you that it was a new comer. Perfect. "Hello?" it was the nervous voice of a kindly older woman. You tried to put on your best innocent voice.

"Yeah, hi….um…Mrs. Longfield…I'm Rachel…Greyson. My brother and I share the condo on the floor below you." There was a slight pause on the other end, you held your breath until it clicked on with life.

"Oh yes, hi. I don't believe we've met. I just moved in. Did you forget your key dear?" she asked nicely. You smiled, almost jumping into the air with triumph. You pulled yourself together and cleared your throat.

"Yeah, that would be great. Thanks!" you exclaimed. There was a buzz, and the door swished open. Quickly moving, you rushed in and up the stairs. A thrill of excitement coarsed through your veins with the success of such an illegal act. Well, it was all a part of the job…You arrived on the outside of his door. Number 235. Clearing your throat, you built up enough courage to knock three times on the wooden door. To your delight you heard the scuffle of feet behind the door and a slight pause in which you assumed he was checking his peephole. There was the sound of a click before the door swung open.

There you stood facing the 6 foot 2 dark-haired acrobat. As you stood there dumbfounded you realized that those pictures did not give him justice. His dark hair was spiked out naturally and his muscles rippled underneath the grey t-shirt and jeans he was wearing. Right now his bright blue eyes gazed at you intently, seemingly analyzing your every thought. He folded his arms across his chest. Shaking your head slightly you brought out your press pass. "Hell, Mr. Greyson? My name is Juliet Matthews and I'm doing a Personality piece on Bruce Wayne for the Gotham Chronicle. I understand that you and he are pretty close," you said, feeling very professional. Richard Greyson raised an eyebrow, however, he was silent as he glanced at your pass and then back to you.

"How did you get in here?" he asked suddenly. You blushed slightly, figuring that it probably wasn't a good idea to admit to a crime. So, you just raised an eyebrow and brought out the recorder.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

There was a slight pause on Greyson's end in which you thought you saw a small smirk. He opened the door a bit wider for you, and you walked into the large condo. Looking around, you saw that the living room was a big open space and connected to the kitchen. The kitchen boasted of a small oak table and new appliances. A hallway lead to back bedrooms and bathrooms. Greyson watched as you surveyed the room and he gestured to the table. You sat down across from him and analyzed his features a little more.

He obviously went to the gym a lot. This wasn't even being covered up. But there was something else there. Wisdom? Kindness? Wit? You studied him a little bit more, and he stared back at you. Finally, realizing your social faux pas, you cleared your throat and turned on your recorder. Pulling out your notebook, you got down to business. "So, Mr. Greyson-," you stared. He raised up a hand to stop you.

"Dick, please," he said with a kind smile. You smiled back and wrote down his nickname for future reference.

"Alright…Dick…just to let you know, this is a personality piece on Bruce Wayne. I understand that he adopted you when you were nine years old?" you phrased this as a question, just to make sure he didn't feel like you were being aggressive. He raised his eyebrows and sat back in his chair. He looked impressed.

"Yeah…wow usually you reporters don't look in that far," he stated. You smiled and shrugged your shoulders as if it was no big deal. You then got back down to business, refocusing on the mission at hand.

"I understand that your parents died in a circus accident…I'm so sorry for your loss," you said gently. "Mr. Wayne adopted you shortly after your parents died…how long had you known him before this happened?"

He gazed at you quietly, assessing his answer. Finally he responded: "About a year before. Bruce had been coming to the shows, and one year before the accident he was backstage and we talked for a long time. We became pretty close." For some reason you thought this sounded a bit too rehearsed…and what struck you about this was the fact that only after a few meetings with Bruce he was willing to move in with the guy. You raised an eyebrow and wrote a few of these questions down.

"So, you had a few meetings with Mr. Wayne…and you were willing to move in with him?" you asked incredulously. He nodded his head, his jaw suddenly going rigid.

"We had spent a few days together. He had been there during the accident. Bruce felt bad for me, so he took me under his wing; gave me a place to stay, food to eat, a good education…," he trailed off with a vague gesture. For some reason you got the feeling that he wasn't telling you the whole story. But you didn't want to alienate him, so you didn't push it. You wrote a few things down then began asking other questions. What was Bruce like as a father? What is he like as a business man? How does he spend his free time? On the surface questions that you would normally ask for a puff piece. An hour and a half later you found yourself out of questions, and an almost dead recorder. You turned off the recorder and faced him, another question brewding in your mind. Clearing your throat you gave him a genuine smile.

"Uh, this is purely off the record…," you began, Greyson's eyes got a little wider with curiousity. "What happened….the accident?" you asked slowly. Dick sighed and pushed back in his chair. You could see him tense slightly, his back going rigid.

"A madman by the alias of Mr. Penguin was at the circus during one of my family's stunts; Bruce Wayne was also there watching in the audience. It was to be a night for the rich and famous…a sort of charity act. Anyway, the Penguin came out with a bunch of his goons and they began firing at the audience. My family tried to stop him, but they ended up falling from the rafters. Batman appeared and sedated the Penguin before he could cause any more destruction. I was the only one left alive from my family….Bruce found me and took me under his protection," he said slowly. You nodded your head, letting the words sink in. Of course you knew who Batman was, but it wasn't like you ran in the same crowds. You've never been in the vicinity when any supervillians have struck, and you've never been much a damsel in distress (or a fangirl for that matter). So, you merely wrote another note down and made a mental note to check it out some more later. Finally, you stood up and held out your hand. He shook it and walked you to the door. You fished out a card from your purse and handed it to him.

"Thank you so much for your time Mr….uh, I mean Dick. If you think of anything else, just give me a call," you said business-like. Dick nodded his head and bade you good-bye before closing his door. It was only 3pm in the afternoon, so you rode the train back to Main Street and went back to work. For the next 2 hours you researched everything you could about Mr. Wayne. Apparently he listed Skiing, Hiking, and Cave Diving as his favorite hobbies. You then looked up the information on the things and began to become an expert on them. You looked up some more pictures of him and his butler before logging out and leaving the office.


	2. Chapter 2

Your apartment was on the way outside of town, making you ride several trains to get there. You were technically still a student at Gotham University, but you had managed to snag a really cheap apartment with a friend of yours and were now living outside of campus. This suited you well considering you had to go to and from the school to get to work. You got home about 7pm and walked in on your roommate eating popcorn and watching a Bourne movie. She waved at you, and you walked through the living room and into your bedroom. Turning the switch on, you closed the door and fell onto your bed in exhaustion, questions reeling through your mind. Tomorrow you'd have to get up for two classes in the morning and then rush through traffic to Wayne Enterprises at 2pm. You took off your coat, changed into your pajamas of an extra-large shirt and panties and then climbed into bed before turning on your computer and doing some more research. That was the thing about being a journalist: you have a lot of homework. You fell asleep around 1am, and got up to the annoying sound of your alarm clock around 8am. Groaning, you threw off your covers and slowly got out of bed. Next door you could hear your roommate's snores echoing off the walls. Janette was never a morning person, all of her classes were later in the day.

Deciding that you should probably wear something nice to the Wayne interview, you changed into a more formal blue dress and heels. You smeared on some eyeliner and mascara before grabbing a piece of toast and making your way out the door. At this time of the day people were already moving about on their way to work or school. You dutifully rode the train for a few stops before getting off near the University. Students piled around you, forcing you to join the herd towards the main doors. The weather was turning out to be a pretty perfect day as the sun was creeping up into the sky.

For the first two hours of your day you had Psychology 302 and Economics 422 to get through. You sat in class, listened to the teachers lecture, and took some notes. While you listened your mind couldn't stop but wander to the conversation you had with the Greyson boy. It sounded so…rehearsed. And he had been very surprised when you made the observation . You tapped your pen on your notebook deep in thought. The rest of the morning passed as such. Your mind going a hundred miles an hour. Of course you didn't want to go snooping around in a private man's life, however, your curiousity bone was tingling and you couldn't help but scratch it. The morning finally rolled along and you found yourself back on the train and heading for the large WAYNE Enterprise building in the center of Gotham. You had to give the man credit…he sure knew how to make a presence. People milled around the area, doing what they did with their day. Business men practically jogged past you with wire-rimmed glasses and cell phones out. You walked past them and straight into the building.

Stratigically placed windows let in as much light as possible. Everything was made of black brick and glass. A reception desk sat in the middle of the first floor. A blonde, skinny woman sat in the desk paging people and typing away on a computer. You shuffled over and gave her your best to-do smile. She didn't even look up at you. So, you cleared your throat forcing her to look up at you. She rolled her eyes as if you were just some pesky kid, and clicked off her headset. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice a little nasally. You forced yourself to keep a hold of the smile, better to be nice and make a good impression.

"Yes, hello, I'm Juliet Matthews I called to make an appointment with Mr. Wayne for a news interview," you stated, pulling out your press pass. The woman glanced at the pass and then back at you, her eyes squinting maliciously. Finally, she picked up the phone and paged Wayne. There was some quiet talking between them before she put the phone back down, sighed, and gestured for a guard to escort you to his office upstairs. You followed the muscular guard up the stairs and passed several important looking people before arriving in a small living room-like space. Another receptionist was waiting, and she bade you into the next room. The guard stayed in the livingroom as you walked into Wayne's office.

It was a large round room with a large oak desk at the end. A couch and an end table sat in the corner with a few old magazines. A double paned window sat behind the desk letting in a lot of open air and sunshine. You walked forward and caught your first look of Bruce Wayne. You could immediately see what girls liked about him. His pictures did not give him justice.

The infamous Bruce Wayne was very broad and muscular. You could see this clearly even though he was wearing a black suit. His hair was gelled back slick, showing his fashion and modern tastes. You felt a tingle down your spine as you suddenly felt too young and too stupid to talk to this man. Every confidence fled from your skin, however, you took a deep breath and pushed yourself forward. You would not let this prissy billionaire intimidate you! As soon as you stepped forward Bruce Wayne looked up at you with analytical blue eyes. At first his gaze was as VERY intimidating. His first glance you wanted to run from the room and pee yourself. However, his gaze softened, and his gestures were warm and inviting. He stood up professionally and shook your hand. Gesturing for you to take a seat, he sat back down and folded his hands together.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne…I'm Juliet Matthews. Thank you for seeing me so soon," you said politely. He smiled and waved his hand as if it was nothing. You pulled out your recorder and notebook and got ready for the interview. "I'm doing a personality piece of you for the Gotham Chronicle, and I needed to ask you a few questions for the story." Wayne nodded his head in understanding but then he frowned and examined you closer.

"Aren't you a little young to be a journalist?" he asked curiously. You smiled knowingly. You got this question a lot. You pushed back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Technically I'm just an intern…but for all intents and purposes, I'm a journalist for this story," you informed him. Bruce nodded his head slowly. You cleared your throat and got down to business.

"So, Mr. Wayne, tell me a little about your company."

For the next 15 minutes you were treated to a slight overview of the whole company. Apparently they dealt mainly in technology but dabbled in pharmaceuticals and medicine. Wayne boasted of having control of several scientific research centers in the Amazon and other forests, along with one in the North Pole. You listened and wrote down a note here or there. For some reason, this kind of information didn't make you happy. You were still yearning for the inside scoop about who this man really is. Finally, he stopped his rant and looked at you expectantly. Clearing your throat, you nodded your head in a mock understanding.

"That sounds…very fascinating…you definitely rule a pretty large empire…but, I want to hear about the REAL Bruce Wayne. Tell me, what do you like to do for fun?" you asked, trying to get to the heart of why you were there. Wayne looked at you for a moment before leaning back and smiling.

"Well, I like to go hiking…mountain climbing…cave diving…," he said off-handedly. You nodded to yourself, only jotting these things down. You already knew that.

"So, what caves have you been down?" you asked mainly out of curiousity. There was a pause on Bruce's end that made you look up at him. He cleared his throat, and tried to put on a charming smile. For some reason he seemed stumped by this seemingly innocent question. You conspicuously wrote another note down and smirked slightly.

"It doesn't seem like you know a lot about your own hobbies Mr. Wayne," you said slyly. However, before he could respond you waved your hand in a nonchalant manner and proceeded on with the next question. No reason to make him nervous or upset…you didn't want to be kicked out.

"So, on a more personal note…I saw that you once adopted a boy by the name of Richard Greyson. I'm sorry to hear about his parents. How long have you known Mr. Greyson?" you asked, switching the topic to his ward. Wayne raised an eyebrow at this question. He did not come prepared for this. He suddenly smirked and gave a soft chuckle.

"Wow, you really do your homework…," he stated. He sighed and smoothed back his already slick hair. "Dick and I had met a few years before his parents tragedy back when he was a young acrobat. At the time he had been just an innocent boy…but after the incident…he became lonely and afraid. I decided to take him under my wing. And well….here we are today." He smiled grandly, however, you noticed how his form had gone rigid and how his teeth and jaw were set. He didn't want to talk about this….there was more to it…but you just couldn't tell…

"This incident…what happened exactly?" you asked softly. Bruce's jaw set even further, and he sat up straighter.

"It was a charity organization for the well-to-dos around Gotham. The circus was here, including the famous Flying Greyson family. During the show, a supervillian by the name of Penguin interrupted the show and began firing blasts into the audience. The Greyson family tried to help, but they ended up falling from the high wire…all except Richard. When the Penguin madman had been detained, I quickly went to Dick's aid, and we've been together ever since," he stated this quickly and stoically, as if he wanted to change topics. However, you didn't let him off the hook so easily.

"I heard that Batman showed up and saved the day," you said quietly. There was a pause on his end in which he stared you down. You shivered slightly, but you held his gaze. Finally, he nodded his head slowly.

"Yes, he was. He helped detain Penguin….if you already know the answer to the questions you're asking me Miss Matthews then what is the point in asking them?" he asked, his voice growing cold and hard. You smirked a little and shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly and turned the page in your notebook. You got back on the subject and began asking him easier questions like: What was it like being a father and a mentor? What does he expect for the future of Wayne Enterprises? What are his plans for the summer? Where does he like to vacation? Finally, an hour and a half later you spent all of your questions and you recorder battery. You flipped the notebook closed and smiled at Mr. Wayne. He sat back in his chair, seeming to be glad that you were finished. You stood up, showing that you were done with the interview. Wayne followed suit and shook your hand once again. This time there was a slight spark to his eye when he analyzed you.

"Thank you so much for the interview, Mr. Wayne," you said, invoking the mandatory politeness. He nodded his head.

"It has been a pleasure Miss Matthews…I look forward to reading this story in the Chronicle," he stated. He pushed a button for the guard, and the big lumbering muscleman walked in. He gestured to you. "Please make sure that Miss Matthews gets to the lobby safely." You smiled at this. In reality he was saying "make sure Miss Matthews leaves". The guard gestured for you to lead, and you walked out of the room. You were lead down the hallway when you spotted a door at the end marked RESTRICTED ACCESS. Every curious bone in your body screamed for you to go and check it out. You glanced at your guard, his jaw was set and he would obviously not let you pass through there. Clearing your throat, you gave him a genuine smile.

"Uh, is there a bathroom around here?" you asked quickly. The guard looked at you and then lead you down the hallway and to the right. You thanked him then quickly snuck in. In reality, you didn't need to go to the bathroom. What you needed was to get some information on this restricted door. Nobody was in the bathroom with you, so you cracked open the bathroom door to see that the guard was standing with his back to the door at the end of the hallway. Regulating your breathing, you made your toes silent, and you crouched down on your heels and slowly crept down the adjacent hallway. The door sat at the end, and you stood up straight and attempted to jiggle it open. However, it was stuck tight. Frowning, you blinked once and did a swift, solid kick on it. It didn't even budge. You squinted your eyes and glanced down at the keypad attached to the handle. You groaned inwardly. It would take forever to get the combination! Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. You picked out your blush pad and brushed some of it on the keypad. A few prints began appearing, and you did a mental high-five to yourself. It looked like the password had the numbers 2,4,6, and 8 in it. The make-up appeared darker on the 8 so you assumed it was the last one used. You typed in 4628 and got a beeping sound. Scratching your neck, you typed in 2648 and the light popped up as green. Feeling the excitement course through your veins, you pushed through the door.

Everything was dark in the room. You flipped on the light and to your surprise saw a massive amount of computers and file drawers. You carefully stepped in and slowly walked around, taking stalk of everything that was available to you. The computers were password protected, but the files looked pretty open. You made your way over and slid the first one open. You picked through them, reading up about statistics and the cost of everything. You shifted through the first drawer, then went to the second. This one was in red. You pulled out the first folder and glanced through it. It looked like Wayne Tech had began building defense equipment like some kind of x-ray gun, an electric shock ray…machines that weren't seen on even the most modern of soldiers. You raised an eyebrow at this and took a picture with your phone. Before you could continue snooping, the door opened and in walked the guard. The guard looked surprised to see you there, and very angry. He walked over and grabbed you by the arm, roughly towing you out the door. You struggled against his hold. "Let me go!" you hissed, pulling back. He just marched you forward shaking his head in disbelief.

"Kids these days…," he whispered more to himself. He was continuing to pull you down the hallway when a voice from behind caused him to stop.

"Let her go, Harry." The guard, apparently named Harry, stopped in his tracks and turned around. You looked and saw a muscular boy with dark hair standing there with his arms folded across his chest. He walked forward and you could see that he had extremely blue eyes and the hint of a smirk on his face. He looked to be about your age. The guard's eyes got wide when he saw the boy and he immediately let go of your arm.

"But Mr. Drake, she was snooping around in the file room…," he said. The 'Mr. Drake' waved his hand away, like it was no big deal. "It's fine. I'll make sure she gets out of the building without any more snooping," he said, reassuring the guard. The man sighed and rolled his eyes. He walked away muttering under his breath about 'hooligans'. You turned and smiled at the boy. You also carefully analyzed him.

"Thanks for that," you said suspiciously. The Drake shrugged his shoulders and stepped closer. Like any other guy he gave you the up-and-down before holding out his hand.

"I'm Tim Drake," he said, introducing himself. You shook his hand, surprised at how strong he seemed.

"I'm Juliet Matthews," you responded. He smiled and smoothed his spikey hair back. You raised an eyebrow expecting more. "So…do you want to tell me why that guard does whatever you tell him to do?" you asked, your curious bone tingling. Tim raised an eyebrow, looking at you as if you should already know the answer to that question.

"Bruce Wayne is my legal guardian…," he said. Your mouth opened a little in surprise, and you almost smacked yourself in the face. Of course! You smiled and pulled on the ends of your hair nervously.

"Of course…oh my gosh this couldn't be more perfect!" you said in an excited tone. Tim's smile grew bigger as he heard you say this.

"Perfect?" he asked with a glint in his eye. You pulled out your recorder and notebook.

"Yes. I'm doing a personality piece on Bruce Wayne for the Gotham Chronicle….care to give an interview?" you asked pleadingly. Tim shrugged his shoulders, and you sat down in the corner and began asking a few questions.

"I hope you don't mind me asking but…how did you come to be under Bruce's care?" you asked gently. Tim sighed and pushed his hair back.

"When I was young, my parents were killed by a madman…at the time my family was pretty close to the Wayne family…so, Bruce felt bad for me and took me, gave me a home, a place to stay, food to eat, a pretty good education…," he trailed off. You narrowed your eyes. A madman had killed _his _parents too…and Richard Greyson's…that was just too coincidental. You raised your eyebrows and leaned against the wall.

"Wow…looks like Bruce really has a thing for kids whose parents have been killed by madmen…," you said, more to yourself. Tim gazed at you, his eyes analytical and cold. They were questioning, so you shrugged your shoulders.

"I interviewed Richard Greyson too," you answered. He slowly nodded his head and gave you an impressed look.

"Wow, most people who write about Bruce don't go that far…," he said. You smiled and shrugged your shoulders like it was no big deal. You then asked him the simple questions like: What was Bruce like as a mentor? What was it like being under his care? All of those on the surface questions that you kind of hated. Half an hour later, you found yourself standing up and ready to leave. It was already 5pm and you had told your roommate you would be back by then. Tim followed suit and shook your hand once again. He paused and then looked back at the file room you had broken in to.

"So, what exactly were you looking for in there?" he asked curiously. You smirked and shrugged your shoulders.

"I guess I just wanted to see what kind of skeletons Mr. Wayne hides in his closets."


	3. Chapter 3

**Tim's POV…**

He had just had the most interesting interview of his life with the prettiest girl. He slowly walked into Bruce's office and sat down. The quiet man glanced up at him. "Did you know that a young journalist had broken into one of your file rooms?" he asked suddenly. Bruce looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Juliet Matthews?" he asked. Tim nodded his head, surprised that someone had managed to pull something like that from under Wayne's nose.

"Yeah, and she grilled me about how we met and how long we've known each other…she was especially curious about our relationship," he said, still shocked himself. Bruce nodded his head slowly, thinking it over a bit.

"She was just in here doing an interview….sounds like she's pretty curious…I was already notified by Dick that she had questioned him too."

"Are you worried?" Tim asked, smirking slightly. Bruce shook his head and got back to his paperwork.

"No, it's doubtful that she found anything useful in that file room before the guard found her. And I highly doubt she'll be able to make the connections between us and Batman.."

**Your POV…**

You took the train home, re-reading the interviews and analyzing the picture you had taken of the files. Looking closer now you could see that the files you had found were actually blueprints to a sort of electronic based weapons. But you couldn't remember if Wayne had listed weapons as one of the branches of his company. Thinking to yourself, you arrived back at your apartment in time to see your roommate, Janette, holding up a dress for you. You stopped in your tracks and stared at it. "Ta-da!" she sang loudly. You raised an eyebrow and shut the apartment door behind you.

"What's up?" you asked, slowly walking in.

"We're going out!" she exclaimed, pulling you in further.

"What? But I've got studying to do…and I have to do some more research for this article…," you whined, excuses flying from your mouth. She merely pushed you into your room and shook her head.

"Absolutely not! Juliet, it's been so long since we did anything fun. Even journalists need to take a break." And with that said, she helped you strip down and pull on a pink ruffly dress that went down to mid-thigh, and big pink spike heels. It was very form fitting and it made you suck in your stomach…a lot. You looked in the mirror and kind of felt like a slut. "Uh…Janette…this isn't really me…," you said slowly. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I know. This dress actually makes you look like you've got boobs," she retorted. She pulled you into the bathroom and went to town on your make-up and hair. Your hair fell down to the middle of your back in large, dark waves. You looked in the mirror and had to do a double-take. Janette was so good with the make-over stuff. She smiled at your shock and then got ready herself. By the time 7pm rolled around you were on the train headed for downtown Gotham. This time of the week Gotham was pretty much pumping with activity. Night clubs throbbed with the beat of the music, and every bar hosted at least one bouncer. Because Janette knew practically everyone in Gotham, she easily snaked you into a club. There you drank margarettias and danced to loud music. A few guys hit on you, but they were all drunk meatheads that kind of pissed you off. By the time midnight rolled around you were ready to go home.

Sneaking your way through the crowd, you found Janette at the epicenter of the dance floor. Three guys were one each side and she was swigging down another taquilla shot. "Hey! HEY I THINK I WANT TO GO HOME!" you roared in her direction. She squinted at you in a funny manner.

"WHAT? WHY?! WE'RE HAVING SO MUCH FUN!" she yelled back .You rolled your eyes. No, _she _was having fun. You were standing there looking like an idiot. You just sighed.

"I THINK I'M GONNA GO HOME. YOU CAN STAY HERE IF YOU WANT!" you yelled. She put a thumbs up to show that she was okay with that plan, so you scooted your butt out of the club and into the night. Gotham was still alive during the midnight hours. Nobody slept here, the city was as busy as every but you didn't mind. You kind of liked the lights and noises of the city. You walked down the sidewalk towards the train station, enjoying the fresh night air. Suddenly, fast footsteps behind you caught your attention. You glanced behind you to see two men with dark clothes walking in step with you. Feeling a thread of fear clog your mind, you picked up the pace and held on tight to your purse, feeling the weight of the mace. Their footsteps picked up to, and suddenly you found yourself running in 3 inch high heels.

"Where're you going pretty girl?" one of the called out.

"Yeah, we're not gonna hurt you…we just want to talk…," the other shouted, his voice as smooth as molasses. They picked up speed, and another man stepped out of the shadows in front of you. You stopped in your tracks, desperately looking to the right and left. But you were in a dark part of the street, the music of the clubs was way behind you now, only a throbbing sound in the distance. The men crowded around you, their foul odor and breath clogging your sinuses. You clutched the bag, feeling dread down in the pit of your stomach.

"Leave me alone," you whispered harshly. They all cackled evilly. They got closer and closer. One was behind you, his breathe hot on your neck. He put a gross hand on your shoulder, while one put a hand on your waist.

"Don't worry, babe, we'll make sure you get home nice and safely…," he whispered menacingly. Your teeth clenched and a blind rage seeped into your stomach. The can of pepper spray was gripped in your hand.

"Don't touch me," you whispered back. And before they could make another move, you swung your elbow back into the man's face, causing him to fall to the ground swearing and cussing. You then pulled out the pepper spray and unleashed a douse right at the remaining two. You then took this chaotic opportunity to kick the one on the right smack in the face, causing him to black out and crumple to the ground. By now the one behind you had gotten back up, and you turned to face him. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you ducked under his right hook and punched him in the crook of his shoulder. There was a POP noise and he fell to the ground, his shoulder now out of place. A hand grabbed your shoulder from behind, and you took your right hand and wrench it off, twisting in place and swinging around. However, the man pulled out of your grasp and gripped your right arm hard. You then took your left and made a punch to his face, however, he blocked it and secured that arm as well.

You had thought you were being attacked by the rapist, but instead you were being held by a boy wearing a black cape and red outfit. You attempted to jerk your arms out of his grasp, however, he had an extremely tight (but protective) grip on them. Your eyes probably bugged out with fear, and your hair was splayed across your face. "Let me go," you hissed, ripping your arms out of his grip. He put his hands up in surrender, but he stayed close and protective. You looked around, attempting to steady your heart. The three goons that had attacked you were lying on the floor unconscious. However, one stirred a little and groaned. He was gaining his mind back again. You looked back at the caped man. He was a little taller than you, his eyes were hidden, but you could see that he was very muscular. Plus it looked like his belt was filled to the brim with weapons and gadgets.

"I think they're coming to," you stuttered frighteningly. He nodded his head and suddenly gripped you around your middle. Without warning, he pulled out a gun-type thing and shot it towards the roofs overhead. A rope shot from the end, and suddenly you pulled off the ground and were flying through the air. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on for dear life. You were pulled forward, and the caped man landed on the building and caught you before you fell off.

You stood there on the edge, still holding on to him for dear life. Looking down, those men looked like ants against the pavement, they were all beginning to stand back up and high-tail it out of there. A soft wind blew your face from your hair, and the lights from the clubs lit up the sky. "I think you're safe now." The mask man was looking at you, his arms still holding you tight. You suddenly felt yourself blush and you let go of him, standing on your own two feet. You took this opportunity to look directly at him. He stared back at you from under his hood, you could feel him analyzing your every feature…and for some reason this made you nervous. You shuffled your feet and pulled at you hair. Even though you were more nervous than anything right now, you were still extremely curious. Every curious bone in your body was tingling.

"So…are you one of those…superheroes?" you asked with a raised eyebrow. He cleared his throat and nodded his head.

"It's Robin," he said. You felt your mouth drop a little before you cleared your throat and attempted to hide your embarrassement. Of course! This was Batman's legendary sidekick Robin! You mentally smacked yourself in the head. Robin smiled knowingly, seeing the look on your face.

"I think you're safe from the goons now…," he started. You smiled, feeling the heat rush to your face.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice deep and mysterious. You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Juliet," you answered. He smiled and took a slight step closer. You carefully watched him, feeling even more nervous. You smiled, the heat rushing to your cheeks.

"Well…you've probably got other people to save from rapists," you said slowly. He chuckled deeply and backed up a few steps.

"Alright Miss Juliet…be careful when you walk home. And keep that pepper spray out," he said. He smiled and nodded his head. Suddenly, he shot his gun/grappling hook thing and swung up to the roof above. You watched him as he gave a short wave and then disappeared into the night. You breathed in and out deeply trying to collect your thoughts. The moon shone brightly down on the city, and you looked up at the stars. Sighing, you slowly crawled down the ladder leading back to the street and hurried home with your pepper spray.


	4. Chapter 4

**Robin's POV…**

He crouched down on the rooftop right next down to Batman. The Dark Knight gazed out over the city, his presence an ever-silent mentor. Robin took stock of his own breathing. He had just had an incredible coincidence involving Juliet Matthews. He had seen her walking down the street wearing that beautiful dress, when three guys jumped her in the dark. Being the hero that he was, Robin swung down and was about to make his first knockout, when Juliet pulled out the pepper spray and began attacking them herself. He sat in the dark corner, surprised at how accurate she hit them. She was full of verocity, and when she was finished he sneaked up behind her and grabbed her arms before she hurt herself.

Her beautiful green eyes had been wide with fear, and her curled dark hair was flung across her shoulders wildly. He held on to her arms in an attempt to calm her down. He was surprised at how strong she was. She finally calmed down, and he did the heroic thing and pulled her away from the disgusting men. Robin had gazed at her with interest. Her dress was….wow…he caught himself staring. Before he tried to make a move, he removed himself from her vicinity.

So now he sat on the edge of a building, waiting for his next instructions from his mentor. Batman glanced at him silently. "What happened?" he asked, he was masking his voice by making it deeper. Robin knew that Batman knew what had transpired, but he humored the man anyway.

"That journalist-in-training, Juliet Matthews, must have been out tonight because she was just jumped by three thugs. I just grappled down to help her," he said pulling on his hood. Batman crouched there on the corner of the building and didn't say anything. His contemplative silence worried Robin a little. Finally, he spoke.

"You have to be careful, Robin," he said slowly. "She's a journalist." Robin waved off this cryptic message and continued looking at the area. He didn't really feel like listening to his mentor's advice in this area. Bruce Wayne AND Batman were known for their womanizing…he had no right to comment on his. So, he listened to the sirens of police in the distance, and followed his mentor straight off the building roof and into Gotham.

**Your POV…The Next Day…**

You woke up to a blaze of light streaming in your face. A throbbing headache was beginning to start at the crown of your head, and your arms were slightly sore. You groaned and pushed your mat of hair out of your eyes. With a large amount of effort, you slowly got up and rubbed your eyes. The sun felt like your enemy today. So, leaving the lights on, you practically crawled over to your wardrobe and put a pair of black leggings and a large purple and pink sweatshirt that showed off your right shoulder. You pushed your feet into some boots and dragged yourself over to the bathroom for a few touch-ups. You brushed your hair out and You stretched a little, attempting to get out some of those kinks. You then took a few Advil from the counter and took a swig of a day-old Diet Coke. You then walked out to the livingroom and found Janette lying on the couch upside with her mouth wide open and her hair matted to the couch. You smiled to yourself, poured a cup of orange juice, and left a note for Janette telling her that you were going to work. You quickly walked down the sidewalk and hopped on the train.

As you rode the train, your mind couldn't help but wander to the caped boy who had saved you from the thugs last night. Robin; the sidekick of Batman. How many girls dreamed of being rescued by his muscular strong arms? You shook your head, ridding it of those impure thoughts. No. What you needed to do now was focus on your Wayne story. You had three interviews, now all you needed to do was write up the story. You sighed to yourself and put your head on the foggy window. This was going to be a long day.

You got to the office and sat down at your extremely small desk in the corner. You typed out the interviews and then began piecing them together piece by piece. Every once in a while you would go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. Three hours later, you leaned back in your chair and pushed your hair back. The story was done, and you were feeling spent. You rubbed your eyes and looked up to see a Tim Drake standing over you. You blinked twice, trying to refocus.

Tim Drake was wearing dark jeans with a few holes in them and a simple grey t-shirt with a black jacket. He was looking at you with a smirk on his face, and his eyes sparkling with curiousity. You raised an eyebrow. "Hey Tim, what's going on?" you asked. He shrugged his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest.

"I thought that maybe you'd want to grab some lunch…I can tell you more about Bruce…," he suggested. You thought this over and shrugged your shoulders. Standing up, you grabbed your bag and followed Tim down the stairs and into the daylight. You walked in silence, appreciating this time alone with the boy your age. You glanced at him, looking at his lean muscles and dark hair. He saw you staring and turned to you with a smirk on his face. You looked back down at your feet and pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Tim lead you to a small café where he ordered a black coffee and scone, and you ordered a large latte with whipped cream. You sat down at a table and pulled out your notebook. You took a big swig of your coffee and then looked at Tim. He was staring at you with slight amusement. You felt yourself blush and you immediately put down your coffee.

"Wow…you must be pretty tired…," he said with a smirk. You chuckled from embarrassment and shrugged your shoulders.

"Yeah, my roommate and I went out last night to a few clubs…," you said, trailing off. Tim nodded his head slowly, gazing at you carefully. You shifted in your seat, feeling a little uncomfortable. There was no reason to alarm Tim about what happened with Batman. But you still felt the need to ask him about what he knew. You took another sip of coffee and looked at him with seriousness.

"Have you ever heard of Batman's sidekick Robin?" you asked, just out of curiousity. You watched him, and for some reason you thought you saw him go rigid. His smile became hard like plastic, and his eyes kind of glazed over for a moment. For some reason these things really stuck out to you.

"Yeah…I guess I've heard of him…," he said slowly. His gaze held you together and analyzed you. "Why? Do YOU know him?" You shook your head and took another swig of coffee.

"Kind of…well…truthfully, when I was walking down the sidewalk I was jumped by three thugs. This guy in a cape jumped down and helped me out of the corner. He told me he was called 'Robin'," you said, thinking hard about it. Your curious bone REALLY wanted to figure out who this 'Robin' was…and Batman…who was this guy? Who would take the time and money to dress up like a bat every night and help damsels in distress. You were staring at the table thinking about this when you realized that Tim was waiting for you to say something. Clearing your throat, you chugged another swig of coffee and addressed the boy in front of you. His eyes analyzed your movements carefully.

"Sorry…I'm just…kind of out of it today…tired…," you stuttered. You took another swig of coffee. Tim smiled and nodded his head in agreement. There was a pause of silence in which you brooded on the thought of Batman. Tim interrupted your thoughts.

"So, how's the Wayne story going? Need any more information?" he asked. You shook your head.

"Nah, I've actually already written the story this afternoon. It just needs to go through the Editor now," you said, finishing up the coffee. Tim raised an eyebrow and nodded his head, a smile began appearing on his face.

"Oh, well I hope I'm portrayed alright," he said teasingly. You smiled and shrugged your shoulders noncommittedly. Tim chuckled in response.

"Well, I'm excited to read the story," he said kindly. You smiled at him.

"Well, I don't know how good it's going to be. But I wrote it…," you said, feeling very unassured. Tim shook his head and gave you a kind smile.

"I'm sure it will be great," he said, reassuring you. The two of you then went on to talk about yourselves a little bit more. It turned out that Tim was going to the private Gotham Academy University a few miles from the Gotham University you were attending. You told him about your dream to go into journalism, and Tim told you how amazing it was that you had an actual dream. He told you that he was planning on going into business (like Bruce), and hopefully own a company one day. You told him that was a pretty exciting idea. The two of you then talked about everything from favorite colors to favorite vacations. By the time you had stopped talking it was already 3pm in the afternoon. Both of you had drank your coffee and the sun was beginning to slide down the sky. Tim looked at his watch expectantly, so you let him off the hook. "Listen, I have to get back home…my roommate's probably gaining consciousness back and she'll want some coffee," you said, standing up. Tim stood up as well and nodded his head in understanding. There was a slight awkward pause in which you shuffled your feet and tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. You pulled out a pen and wrote down your phone number onto a napkin and handed it to him shyly. He smiled and a little red appeared on his cheeks. He took it and thanked you.

"We should talk again some time…," Tim said, holding up your number. You nodded your head in agreement. After saying good-bye, you parted ways and made your way home. As soon as you stepped through the door to your apartment, you were greeted by your excitable roommate. She exclaimed as soon as you walked in and grabbed you by your shoulders. She pulled you in and sat you down on the couch. As she stood over you, you could see how her arms were crossed over her chest and how she was looking at you with a slight frustration. You raised an eyebrow.

"What's up?" you asked, not understanding why she was acting so weird. She gave you a visible huff.

"How come you didn't tell me you were rescued by Robin?!" she asked incredulously. Your mouth fell open with disbelief.

"I don't know! Maybe because you were out cold all day!" you exclaimed back. She huffed and frowned down at you in a rather ridiculous sense.

"Don't you know who Robin IS?!" she exclaimed, acting as if you were a disobedient child. You gazed at her, unable to believe that she knew his true identity. "He's Batman's sidekick!" she flung her arms in the air for dramatic effect. You rolled your eyes. Well, OBVIOUSLY. She sat down on the couch and scooted close to you, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Well, did you kiss him?" she asked. You pushed her away.

"No! Of course not!" you exclaimed rudely. She rolled her eyes like you were lying. You pushed her shoulder a little. "I swear, I didn't kiss him! He just…flew me up to the roof of a building away from a few thugs. I told him my name and then he ran away." You said, realizing how ridiculous it really sounded when it was stated out loud. She sighed and looked at you with a longing expression.

"Do you realize how many girls would _kill_ to be with him?" she asked, gazing into the distance. "He's mysterious…muscular…humane…" She trailed off, her eyes going dark with the idea of Robin. You rolled your eyes and stood back up, walking into the kitchen and searching the fridge for something to eat.

"I don't see what the big deal is…he's just a guy…who happens to go around wearing a costume…," you said slowly, shaking your head. She raised an eyebrow and looked at you as if you had just asked her to give you a kidney.

"What's the big deal?! Gee I don't know…a man with chiseled features and a mysterious background who goes around saving damsels in distress and fighting crime…oh that's not a big deal at all!" she exclaimed, falling back on the couch. You rolled your eyes and started feeling a headache come on. Your roommate was like this…annoying. She sighed and sat down opposite of you in an exhausted manner, as if your incompetence in the dating life was exhausting to even think about. You smiled at her, Janette was harmless when taken in strides. Finally, she stood up and brushed her crazy frizzy, red hair out of her freckled face.

"I'm off to work," she sang out, walking towards her room and coming back out changed in a bar labeled t-shirt and ball cap. Janette worked at the local McGillian's Bar down the block. To be honest, the job suited her. She was talkative, loud, and she always had the latest gossip. So, everyone went to the bar for the latest in Gotham. She gave you one last smile before slamming the door on her way out. You milled around a bit in the apartment; cleaned the bathroom, straightened the living room, ate a piece of leftover chocolate cake from the fridge, and then contemplated about going to the gym to work off the piece of cake. You were about to change into some work-out clothes when the computer screen caught your eye. Your feet pulled your forward and suddenly you were in front of it hitting BATMAN into the search engine.

There were a few blogs about him and his feats. You clicked on one blog called THE STALKER…a name that creeped you out, but showed some potential promise. The man who wrote for this thing obviously was obsessed with Batman and his true identity. He wrote a few articles talking about the many things that he had done over the past two years. It looked like he had solved a few mysteries that revolved around madmen like the Penguin, Scarecrow, and the mass tyrant Joker. You had heard of all of these before, but you had never personally witnessed them…growing up in California and all…You looked closer at the column involving the Penguin. This one was the most recent. Apparently Batman had stopped a few of Penguin's men in the middle of a drug bust downtown. You looked through the information he had displayed. There were a few pictures of a dingy alleyway outside a pool bar. The three drug cartels were on their knees in a line sitting in front of a typical police car.

In the corner of the picture was the sweep of a black cape. This must be Batman. You frowned and tried to enlarge the picture. You looked closer at the suspects. They were all wearing suits…nice suits…obviously whoever this 'Penguin' was he was obviously pretty loaded if he could afford all of his goons nice clothes. You scrunched up your face a little in thought and typed in PENGUIN into the search engine. Predictably you got a lot of pictures of cute baby penguins. However, there WAS a candid picture of a stumpy little man with a big hook nose, a black suit, and a top hate accompanied with a cane. The picture was at an odd angle, so you assumed he didn't realize this picture was being taken. You enlarged the picture, taking note of his beady black eyes, and evil grin. You then zoomed to the edge of the photo where there was a building in the background. You frowned, seeing the highlighted sign at the very edge, a corner of it had been cut off. You squinted your eyes. It looked like the name of a club on the wrong side of town…the…Pink…that's all it gave away. You sighed and sat back in your chair.

Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you were moving yourself out of the apartment and down the street. You couldn't exactly pinpoint the reason why you were looking all of this stuff up. Morbid curiousity? Maybe the true reason was because this Batman guy had your mind tingling. Who was this dude anyway? And who was his partner…Robin? You wanted to get to the bottom of this. So, you boarded a train and headed towards the South part of the downtown area. Half an hour later, you got off at a dingy subway area and made your way up into the sidewalk.


	5. Chapter 5

Just by looking around Gotham one could see that it was a pretty city. And like any other city, it was littered with high-class areas like the one currently surrounding Wayne Enterprises, and then there were areas like the one you were currently in…not so pleasant. You sighed and held your purse close to your side and began walking with determination down the sidewalk. That was the key to not being mugged in broad daylight, make it look like you have a purpose. You had printed off a photo of the place, so you continued walking until you got to the busy part of the downtown.

Clubs littered both sides of street. Each one cheesier and dingier than the next. Prostitutes and drug dealers littered the sidewalks and small alleys, waiting for customers. You ignored them all and continued walking for another hour. You were about to turn around and walk back to the subway when a small club on the corner of the block caught your eye. It was a small thing with torn away brick and loose roof shingles. A big sign on the front was flashing pink and it read the Pink Lady. You pulled out the picture and compared the images. It was definitely the club. It looked dark on the inside, and there was a slight pumping music eminating from it. You glanced around, everyone seemed to be minding their own business. So, taking a deep breath you focused yourself. You are an investigative journalist. This is what you did….You were good at this….it would be fine…just walk in and ask some questions…nobody will get hurt…you just have to focus…

You marched yourself up to the club and let yourself in. Upon entering you were hit by the stench of cigarette smoke and liquor. You looked around and saw that the place was just as dingy on the inside as it was on the outside. A few lonely tenants sat in the corners clutching to their beers. A small dance floor with fluorescent lights sat in the middle, with an automated DJ playing at the side. The bartender was standing behind the bar with a cup in his hand, he was busying himself by cleaning the top over and over again. He merely glanced over at you as you walked up to the bar. He slid over to you and raised an eyebrow. The subtle hint behind that was: you don't belong here. The bartender leaned against the counter and gazed at you with dark, questioning eyes. "What'll it be?" he asked, his voice a dull monotone. You sighed and looked around, trying to play it cool.

"Uh…just some vodka with lime on the rocks," you stated. In reality, you weren't much of a drinker…especially because you had just turned 21 a few months ago. But despite that the bartender didn't ask you for your I.D. instead he filled up your order and slid it over to you. You thanked him and quietly looked around a little bit more. The people in here looked like your classic drunks, they probably wouldn't have a lot of information about the drug cartel. You glanced at the bartender…he would probably know about what happened. You took a sip of your drink, grimaced at sting of it, and addressed the man.

"So…uh…I read a news article about a drug bust in this area…I heard Batman came around and beat up some guys….did you see this happen?" you asked, nonchalantly. The bartender raised an eyebrow, his jaw set in a hard line. He leaned up against the counter, getting in closer to you.

"Listen little girl, you don't want to be asking these kind of questions…there are dangerous people around these parts…you want to be careful….," he said, his voice a low warning. You smiled in understanding, downed the vodka, and then threw a few bills onto the counter before making a hasty exit. You stood on the sidewalk and took a few deep breaths. So far you've hit nothing but dead ends. You ripped out the picture and took another look at it. The picture was at an angle…from the side of the building…You raised an eyebrow and walked around the building to the dark alleyway. There was a dumpster on the side and it looked pretty filled. Everything was dark, even though it was only around 5pm. You took out your pepper spray and held it tightly to your side for protection. You weren't about to be mugged again.

You walked around the building and crept to the back. You were about to approach the back garage when two people appeared around an open truck. You silently hid around the corner and took out your camera. The two guys were both wearing black suits. One was shorter and scruffier, a large scar cut across his face making him look very violent. The second man was very large and doughy, he lumbered around like a bear. He pulled open the truck's back door and they began hauling out boxes that were lined up in the back end. You pulled out the camera and hid under the shadows and began clicking away silently. They continued unloading the truck, each one mumbling a few words to the other. You noticed a small, white label on the corner of the boxes, so you zoomed the lense in and caught the words 'Delicto del Gatto' on the packages. You took a few pictures of this, then continued watching. After the unloading was finished, the men opened up one box and took out a syringe of liquid. The both smiled and nodded their heads as if it was the best stuff in the world. They then took a few boxes and walked into the back of the club.

You glanced around twice and then snuck around to get a closer look. With your adrenaline pumping and your heart rapidly beating in your chest, you opened up the already opened box and took a few random pictures before moving on to the truck. The automobile was a regular-looking truck that was unmarked. You took a few pictures of the license plates and the empty back before quickly moving back out of sight again. Just as you rounded the corner, the two men came back out and picked up more boxes. "Jesus, Penguin's really ordered a crap-load of this," whined the bigger man. The shorter one nodded his head in agreement.

"No kiddin'…he must be planning something pretty big with all the TITAN he's got in here…," he stated. They took a hold of a few more boxes and left the area. You frowned to yourself, and then walked back to the street where you would be a little safer. An hour had gone by, and you made your way back to the subway, thoughts reeling through your mind. What was TITAN? Who were those men? And who exactly was this 'Penguin' guy? You quick-walked through the station and made your way home.

By the time 8pm rolled around you found yourself at your desk and flipping through the pictures you had just taken. You zoomed in to a few and cropped the others. In the pit of your stomach you could feel a story coming on…but you didn't know how to go about it. Sighing to yourself, you pushed back your hair and made a mental note to talk to your editor tomorrow about it. Looking at the clock, you realized that you hadn't eaten any supper, so you dug around in the fridge and ate some left-over Chinese noodles. While you were eating your noodles you looked out the window at the street. Your curiousity wasn't even closely sated yet. You still had questions about Batman…and how he was tied to this man 'Penguin'. What's more, what was going down with this TITAN? You got back on the computer and typed in TITAN to the search engine. However, nothing came up. Your first guess was drugs. This must be some kind of narcotic…maybe a steroid….You then shook your head and typed in DELICTO DEL GATTO to the engine. You came up with a respected boxing company.

The alert had a link to it, so you were led to the website. There were a few phone numbers on the bottom, which you happily wrote down. This brought up more questions to mind; Who was the president? Did they know they were being used to illegally harbor drugs and possible steroids? You shook your head like a dog shaking away water. It was too late to call them tonight, you would have to do it tomorrow. So, you shut off the computer, put in your favorite mystery movie, made some popcorn, and sat down to a quiet night.

You fell asleep half way through the movie, but you woke up to the slam of the front door. You jumped with a start, but relaxed a bit when you saw that it was Janette. She sighed and flipped off her shoes, she's obviously had a long night. She stooped over, picked a hand-full of the popcorn out of the bowl and then walked back to her room. You finished up the movie and the fell into a fitful sleep on the couch.

**The Next Day…**

You woke up at 7am tossing and turning. Janette was snoring deeply in her room. You rubbed your face and began making a pot of coffee. Last night had been a restful night. As the coffee brewed, you logged back on to the computer and checked out the pictures one last time. Nothing new cropped up in your mind, so you made a piece of toast and sat down to some breakfast and the morning paper. By 8am, you were up and ready to go. On today's agenda, you had class from 12-3pm, and then you were going to go back to the club to see if you could find out any more information. So, you changed into a black lace top and a pair of old jeans. You then brushed your teeth and did all the necessary prepping for the day. You printed out the photos, packed your messenger bag, slung it across your shoulder, and then left the apartment. You took the subway and found yourself at the school in half an hour.

For three hours you took notes, studies for tests, and drank a little more coffee. Right after school finished up, you got right back on the subway and made your way towards work. It was about 3:30pm when you reached the office. As soon as you had set your backpack down on your desk, the Editor walked over and slapped your newly edited story onto your desk. You felt a stone drop in the pit of your stomach. You gulped as he put his hands on his hip and looked down at you. "I read your story…," he started, you raised your eyebrows begging him to continue. "…and I have to say….it's pretty good. You're a good writer Matthews." You took a sigh of relief and sat back in your chair. You gave him a grateful smile.

"Thank you sir," you said back. He nodded his head and turned to leave.

"If I have any extra stories, I'll hand them over next time," he stated, departing back into his office. You smiled and felt a rush of excitement go through your stomach. You almost did an air-high five to yourself, but you held back. Instead, you put the photos in front of you and began analyzing them more intently. A few writers walked over and gave you some filing to do, but other than that it was a pretty calm day in the office. You would have shown the photos to the Editor, but you didn't have enough evidence. You needed to call the boxing agency. So, by 6pm you had finished the filing and were making your way down the street. Suddenly, you phone buzzed in your pocket.

"Hello?" you answered.

"Hey Juliet…it's uh…Tim…Tim Drake." You stopped in your tracks with surprise. Tim Drake. You had almost forgotten about him…especially with what was going on with the possible drug cartel and Batman.

"Oh right! Hey, what's up?" you asked, your voice going up an octave.

"Well, I was wondering if you were busy tonight…we could go out to eat…or something…," he said, trailing off. Your heart pounded heart on your chest. Oh my god. He was actually asking you out on a date! You nearly jumped up and down with excitement.

"Oh wow…uh no! I mean, I'm not busy tonight. Uh, how about dinner at 7pm?" you asked.

"Yeah, yeah sure…where should I pick you up at?"

You gave him your address and promised that you would be ready by then. Hanging up the phone, you walked home with a new jump in your step. You walked into the apartment and took a deep breath. Looking at the clock you suddenly realized that it was already 5:30pm and you weren't even close to ready. So, with a slight squeal, you threw down you backpack on to your bed and jumped into the shower. Like every girl about to go out to a date, you scrubbed yourself from head to toe, and shaved every inch of hair from your body. You then power washed your face and doused your whole body in smelling salts and oils. You then did your hair curly and half-up with braids on the side.

You bounded out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and ran straight into your roommate. Janette looked you over and gave you a wide grin. "So, who's the special date?" she asked knowingly. You shrugged your shoulders as if you didn't know what she was talking about. She rolled her eyes and smiled even wider. Finally you sighed and gripped her arm and pulled her into your room. You gave her a panicked look.

"I need your help…what should I wear?" you asked desperately. She chuckled as if you were a baby bird learning how to fly. She opened your closet and dug around for a moment before pulling out a tight black dress with lace sleeves.

You smiled and put it on, pushing up your boobs in the process. Janette nodded her approval, and before you could do or say anything else, there was a knock at the door. You felt nerves fly around in your stomach, but you pushed them down and opened the door. Tim stood there wearing dark jeans and a black leather jacket. His eyes gave you the up-down look and he smiled. "Hey, you look great," he said politely. You smooth the front of your dress.

"Oh thanks, you look pretty good too," you said back. You opened the door a bit further and allowed Tim to walk inside. Janette popped up from the couch at the sight of him. Her eyes got big and she smiled over his shoulder.

"Oh wow…I mean…It's nice to meet you. I'm Juliet's roommate, Janette," she said politely, holding back her giggle. She eyed you for a second and then nodded her head in an understanding fashion. You rolled your eyes and took Tim's arm in yours and steered him out the door.

You walked down the sidewalk in a comfortable silence. Every once in a while you would glance over at Tim. The night air felt good against you skin, and you enjoyed the slight breeze. Tim seemed to know where you were going, so you didn't question it. He glanced over at you and grinned. "So, where are we headed?" you asked, noticing his smirk. He chuckled and suddenly stopped short. You looked around and noticed that you were standing outside a torn up stone building. A sign hung on the side stating Piazza's. It was an Italian dive. He took your arm in his and led you down the stairs to the front doors. A waiter led you to a table in the corner, and you sat down across from the dark-haired boy.

You ordered some water and some fettucine alfredo. Tim had shrimp scampi and a diet coke. You sipped on the water and sat there shuffling your feet awkwardly. Tim stared at you with those dark eyes and smirk of a smile. You smiled back at him in an embarrassed fashion. "So, how's the story coming along?" he asked politely. You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, but a smile crossed your face.

"It's actually pretty good. You'll get to see it in the next issue of the paper. My editor really seemed to like it…I think I'll get to see some more serious stories now…," you said excitedly. Tim nodded his head and smiled, excited for you. You took another sip of water and then turned your attention back to Tim.

"So, tell me about yourself. What do you do outside of school? Do you work anywhere? you asked with a smile. Tim sighed and rubbed his head. For some reason these normal, average questions seemed to pose as threats. He noticed your curious expression and then he cleared his throat and gave you a reassured smile.

"I uh…well…I work with the police department from time to time working on a few cases as a consultant…," he said nonchalantly. Your eyes practically boggled out of your head.

"You work with the police department!" you exclaimed excitedly. Tim blushed a little and nodded his head slowly. He turned his food around in the bowl a little and took a few bites before shrugging his shoulders in a noncommittal fashion.

"Yeah…I just help them out from time to time…," he answered. For the next half an hour you asked him question after question about this transaction with the department. You noticed as how Tim seemed to shift uncomfortably in his seat during this whole conversation, but you couldn't help yourself. Eventually you sat back in your seat and gave him an impressed look. Wow! A police officer.

"Well that's really awesome…Wow…I feel like a total kid sitting next to you…," you said with a slight whistle. Tim chuckled and shook his head to reassure you.

"Nah….it's not really that impressive…," he stated slowly. You smiled and changed the subject. You talked about your favorite books and movies. You were pretty surprised to hear that Tim wasn't just all athletics and looks…he was actually very smart. He had read famous dystopias like 1984 by Orwell and classics like Jane Eyre. You talked about both of your views on the world, and how much travel you have both done. You were very surprised to learn that he had been to many countries around the world including: Morocco, Paris, Spain, China, and Italy. You shared funny stories about getting lost, and tips about where the best places to eat and sleep are. By the time you were back on the street, it was already 10pm and the street lights were on.

You gripped Tim's arm, feeling a slight chill in the air. He paused for a moment, stopped your right in the sidewalk, took off his jacket, and slung it around your shoulders. He rubbed them a little bit before leading you back down the sidewalk.

You arrived at your apartment in the nick of time. You faced Tim with a nervous smile on your face. To be honest, you didn't go out on a lot of a dates, so this was kind of new territory. You quickly took off the jacket and handed it back to him with a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, I had a really great time, Tim," you said, shuffling your feet slightly. He smiled down at you, you noticed a slight redness had appeared in his cheeks.

"Yeah, it was really fun…," he said, trailing off. You smiled, and then did the ultimate 'kiss me' move: you searched randomly for your keys. You came back up with them jingling in your hand, thinking about if he would believe it if you had stayed down for a few moments longer. Tim's eyes suddenly went dark and serious and he blushed furiously. You stared at him for a moment, your breath completely taken away. Suddenly, he gripped the back of your neck and bent down. His lips brushed against yours, pushing ever so slightly.

You closed your eyes enjoying the moment. His lips were soft yet strong, his grip was commanding yet delicate. It was a puzzle to you, and you tried to work it out, however, in the next moment you were separated. He smiled at you with sparkling eyes. You said your goodbyes and made your way into the apartment, lingering at the closed door for a moment. You looked up and were slightly startled to see Janette with her hands on her hips staring down at you. You sighed and rolled your eyes, making your way towards your room. Janette stopped you with her arm out, blocking your way.

"Oh no! You have to give me all the juicy details!" she exclaimed, pushing you back on to the couch. So with a slight tiredness in your bones, you told her of everything that had transpired on the date. Tim had been perfect…handsome….charming…intelligent…you smiled at the very thought. It had been a very good first date. Janette giggled at the look in your eyes. You sighed, and then walked to your room and shut the door behind you. You didn't feel like talking to her right now. So, you changed into your pajamas and flopped onto the bed. You spent the next two hours staring up at the ceiling, wondering how this was going to go…


End file.
